Bury Your Skeletons
by CrimsonFlowerz
Summary: "Why are you wearing a mask?" the man behind him asked. "The same reason you are- metaphorically speaking." Matt said, an edge to his tone. He smirked. "The only difference is- you don't actually wear a mask, it would throw off your aim."
1. Skeletons

_She buries her skeletons like she's collecting them. Better lock up your skeletons, throw away everything._

-Pham "Controls"

"Fog, we don't have to _go_ anywhere." Matt said, listening to his friend pack up their things. He would be helping, but Foggy wouldn't let him, suspicious that the lawyer would just dismantle all that he put together so far.

Matt made it clear that he was against moving the business out of Hell's Kitchen- but he wasn't the one who had to pay the rent every month. Well, technically, he did, but he wasn't in charge of signing their minimal profit away. He didn't see how much it was, how much it had gone up since they began. Foggy had found a great building in another city. The place they were moving to was in need of lawyers, considering a lot of them had relocated due to some complications with the police force. But he looked into that too, and that whole dilemma had since calmed down. Or at least, it was rumored. Foggy knew the city had a bad history, but they needed to go somewhere that they could at least scrape by, unlike what they were doing at the moment.

"And this is the only time you're wrong, Matty." Foggy sighed, closing another box with packing tape. "The movers will be here in a bit. Could you contact Karen and tell her to bring around the van we rented?"

"I know we haven't been doing so well, but move out of Hell's Kitchen? I grew up here, Fog. We both did." Matt tried to argue, but it was the wrong decision, since almost as soon as the words fell past his lips, he immediately felt his friend's heart beat spike.

"You don't think this is _hard_ for me, too, Matthew?" Foggy asked, a moment of silence passing between them, before he moved to tape the final box shut. Matt worried his lip in frustration. He didn't particularly enjoy admitting when he was wrong- in fact, he had a reputation about that sort of thing. But he couldn't be acting so immature about the situation right now. Both of them were wary of leaving the city, afraid of what will happen in the future- to their business, their livelihood. Although, Matt would be damned if they somehow ended up in a worse situation than they were in now.

It hadn't been that long ago that Matt had considered suiting up and taking from the men on his list. They wouldn't miss a few million- not the kind of people he dealt with. But not only would that look suspicious, it also went against everything he believed in. 'Thou shall not steal,' the line repeated itself in his head- along with some other things his mind decided to remind him of. Damn, he needed another round of confessions soon, didn't he?

Karen was speed-dial 3. He didn't often call people, he normally picked up a call, not dial one. But on the occasion that he needed to-

"Hello?" Karen's voice came through the small speaker, and Matt sighed at her tone. She must've been expecting the call.

"Foggy says to bring a van of some sort around," he managed to say, despite wanting to tell her to call everything off. He had a feeling she would side with the man carrying boxes to the curb, though.

"Alright, I'll be there in five."

"Alright."

* * *

The drive to Starling City was long and quiet. Foggy drove, Matt in the passenger seat, and Karen asleep in the back. Matt didn't like to sleep in cars, the movement of the vehicle and all the noise made it hard to drift off. When he was asleep, on the rare occasion, he preferred a flat, still surface. So while he was silent, he was attentive. He caught everything, like every time Foggy sounded like he wanted to say something- but didn't. Like when Karen shifted in discomfort in the back, or when a car weaved around them. They'd been driving for a few hours already- honestly, why they didn't take a plane was beyond him. The drive would likely take a few days- but Matt didn't particularly mind. Maybe this tension that was building up between the three would break before they ended up at their destination.

"What is so special about this place that we need to travel across the country to settle?" Matt asked, feeling as if for once in his life he had no idea what was going in his best friend's hair.

"Hell's Kitchen… it's bad for you, alright?" Foggy said hesitantly, his voice dropping halfway through the sentence. "You needed to get away from there-"

"Foggy, I know you care for me, but you're not my _mother_," Matt all but snapped. Another wave of silence passed over them, and for the second time today, Matt was sorry he'd opened his mouth at all. It was wrong for Foggy to decide what was good and bad for him, but at the same time, Matt needed to learn to appreciate the friendly concern. He wasn't very used to that sort of attention, but ever since he and Foggy all but left each other when Matt's secret was revealed, his friend has been on edge.

"I'm sorry, I just don't feel comfortable leaving the place where all my memories of my father are," Matt sighed, and it was a loaded sentence, but he couldn't help himself. He was frustrated and upset. Foggy was just going to have to deal with it.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Foggy said softly. "But this will be good for both of us, I promise."

In the backseat, Karen shifted, muttering something in her sleep. Matt closed his eyes, even if it didn't matter. Even with them closed, he could still see the fire. Although, three states away, he almost felt like the heat was finally dying down.

* * *

The trip had ended up being a little over two days. They hadn't stopped many times along the way- besides for food and to switch out drivers. Matt sort of wished that he could _actually_ see in times like these, so that he could share the responsibility of driving just for a little bit. He hated seeing the ones he cared about so exhausted from driving day and night.

When they got to Starling City, it was dusk, a warm spring wind blowing through the streets. The office space that Foggy had purchased had an upstairs- a three-bedroom apartment with a full-kitchen, living space, and two bathrooms. On the way there, Foggy and Matt agreed that they didn't mind sharing if that meant Karen could have her own bathroom.

Moving in was easier than moving out- and surprisingly, they had more than enough space for the price they paid.

"It's not that bad," Foggy said, pulling out a chair from the table situated in the kitchen. He sat, leaning back slightly, an uneasy smile on his face. Matt said nothing, but Karen nodded behind him, coming around to inspect the area.

"Yeah- it's actually really nice, Foggy," she complimented, her smile sincere. "I can imagine this being our home- at least temporarily.

At that, Matt opened his mouth- just to quickly shut it again. For some reason, his mind wouldn't settle. His anger flared up, and he gripped his cane tightly in his fist. The air in the room became tense very quickly, and the other two occupants took awkward breaths.

"Yeah, real nice Fog." He said, using all of his willpower not to grit his teeth at the statement. But by the subtle shifting- a fix of his collar, a crossing of his ankles- Matt could tell that the words had made him uncomfortable. Without saying anything else, Matt quickly left the room, using his cane to guide himself to his room.

Once he was there, he threw the cane across the room- letting it bang against the far wall and clatter noisily on the floor. He needed to get some air, but this city- he had no idea how to get around it. If he went out alone, he would most certainly get lost. Although- holding his breath- he figured getting lost wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to him.

Unpacking his old outfit, the black jumpsuit and half-mask; Matt rubbed his face, his hand shaking, before throwing the clothes on. He paused for a second at his window. He'd purposefully chose the bedroom with a fire escape outside the window. He wondered if Foggy would have guessed his intentions- and whether he was letting him go because he felt bad, or what. He figured it didn't exactly matter now, as he moved fluidly out the window and silently onto the fire escape.

* * *

Matt was never one to intrude when he didn't know well the situations of an occurrence. He liked to be well-informed. He liked to know he was on the right side of a fight. But tonight was different. He came out because he was feeling out of place and angry at the wrong people. He needed more than anything else to be a little reckless right now.

So he followed the sounds of a struggle across town. On street corner, Matt picked up the sounds of two men tossing a woman in the back of a van. Moving out of sight, blending in with the shadows, the vigilante hurried after the kidnapper's vehicle. After ten minutes of tailing the automobile down alleys and around blocks, they finally stopped at what Matt assumed to be a warehouse on the port. Water sloshed in the distance, and old metal bending to temperature changes echoed in the empty space of storage buildings. Matt listened carefully, scoping out the area to the best of his ability before making any advances.

Matt could tell the port was wide, with a dock reaching down the side. From the electrical buzzing, he pinpointed three or four overview lights in the immediate area. What was more of a concern though, was the muffled sobbing that was coming from the warehouse closest to the water. Before he could investigate, the men from the van exited and came around back to haul their catch out of the vehicle. He could hear the poor woman now, groggily waking up from being knocked out. She attempted to twist away from them, but they had her arms tied and her mouth gagged.

Matt would have, on another occasion, burst out of his cover and beat the living hell out of them on the spot- but he had a feeling that he would benefit from waiting a few more seconds. There was something in the warehouse where the men were taking her, and if they were more victims, it would be easier for everyone if the kidnappers opened the presumably locked door, before Matt made any daring rescues.

"Stop struggling," one of them men threatened, and by the gasp, Matt could only assume he somehow hurt her. The vigilante only wished this part was faster- and easier- to deal with. If only he'd known about the warehouse, he would have tools, things to speed this part up. But for now he would have to wait it out, no matter how angry it made him.

The men approached the warehouse where the other noises were coming from, and unlocked the door, pushing it open wide. That was their first and last mistake.

Dashing out from hiding in the shadows on the side, Matt went after the bigger man first- the one who was holding the woman. With a quick jab to the ribs, the man was doubled over, the woman easily wiggling away now, and making a break for it. Listening carefully, he heard the second man pull out a gun- to which he ducked, kicking out his legs to take out one of the man's ankles. He screamed in pain, and dropped quickly- to which Matt knelt atop him and delivered a blow to the center of his face, snapping his head back and knocking him out cold on the pavement. The other man, now recovered from the earlier hit, whips out what Matt figures out a little too late is a taser.

Matt lets out an almost animalistic snarl at the feeling of electricity shooting through him. He'd felt it before, but it had never made him so angry. He briefly wondered if there was, in fact, something wrong with him- but those thoughts were quickly pushed to the back of his mind as he spun around, kicking the device from the man's hand and wrapping his hands around his throat.

But just as he felt the man's pulse begin to slow, his struggling becoming weaker, Matt could feel a presence at his back, and a sharpness between his shoulder blades.

"I would let go of that man now, if I were you." A deep, chilling voice said. Matt, feeling confused and betrayed by his own senses, fretfully let go of the man beneath him. Immediately, the man started choking, taking in soft gulps of air while holding his bruised throat. In the background, Matt could hear the whispers of a few wary women. Directly behind him, he quickly sought out a heartbeat- to which he found one; extraordinarily calm and slow, coated from head to toe in thick material.

"I heard a fuss," Matt tried to explain.

"Why are you wearing a mask?" the man behind him asked.

Matt started to think of some clever alibi, but upon coming up blank, decided to look at it from another angle. This man was most likely exactly like him. Acting outside the law to break down the people harming the city in which they resided. He guessed there were others like him- but running into one here? How ironic.

"The same reason you are- metaphorically speaking." Matt said, an edge to his tone. He smirked. "The only difference is- you don't wear a _mask_, it would throw off your aim."

The man behind him was silent for a moment, before Matt felt him back off. Finally feeling free enough to breathe comfortably, the masked man hesitantly stood. He surveyed the area once more, realizing that he'd been left to fend on his own, and grunted in frustration. The man he'd been choking laid limply on the ground, seemingly too knocked around to get back on his feet. Matt scoffed- it was better that he stayed where he was.

"One of you take their phone and dial the police." Matt instructed the group of terrified women. They did as he said, while he went over to the kidnappers' truck and pulled out some rope and gags. Coming back to the downed criminals, Matt made quick work of tying them up, resting them sitting up against the warehouse wall.

"Are you leaving?" One of the woman said, and Matt could tell it was the most recently snatched women by the familiar sound of her clicking heels- probably short and wide, made of wood.

"Yes, the cops will handle it from here," Matt assured them. "They're tied up, it'll be fine."

"What if The Hood returns? You saved us, but I doubt he respects you for it." She countered, and the vigilante could hear her heart rate speeding up.

"The Hood?" he repeated, the whisper of a question on his tongue.

"Yes." The woman answered, and she took breath in, hesitating. "What do we call you, for the police report?"

"You call me nothing. This _Hood_ saved you, end of story."

And with that, Matt was walking off, before any one of them could stop him. He disappeared into the shadows as if he were a part of them.


	2. Back and Forth

_And I've tried to say; babe, I'm gonna ruin you if you let me stay._

-Marina &amp; the Diamonds "I'm a Ruin"

Two men circled each other closely, no weapons in hand, focusing intensely on one another. One of them bare-chested, covered in deep scars, a sheen of sweat showing his exertion. The other, his darker skin also slick with perspiration, a drenched tank clinging to his built torso, pressed his lips together in anticipation.

"Dig, you look tense," the scarred one taunted, waiting until it looked as if the other man were about to respond when he came at him- stomping on his foot to bring his shoulders down, before elbowing him in the back of the neck so he dropped.

Dig groaned from his place at the other man's feet.

"Oliver-" he began, but his companion was already walking away from the sparing mat.

"Gotta stay on your feet, Dig." He said smugly, moving over to the computers, where he'd left a few towels beside the monitors. Felicity would be there, normally, but today she was busy elsewhere. He and Dig had just came down for some combat practice. "Criminals aren't going to be as kind as me out there."

"Oh, I'm _well_ aware," Dig scoffed, grabbing a towel when Oliver tossed it to him. He wiped the sweat from his brow, and came to rest against the metal table Oliver was standing in front of. He watched his friend carefully, observing the thoughtful expression on his face. "Is it a girl?"

Oliver almost laughed. He guessed, though, that he and Dig were close enough now that it didn't really matter how formal the dialogue between them was.

"For once, no- it's not about a girl," he muttered under his breath. Oliver adjusted himself, sitting on the edge of the available seat, and started typing. Dig watched on wordlessly for a moment, before he draped the towel around his shoulders and sighed.

"Well, I can see something's bothering you, so just spit it out." Dig casually tossed over his shoulder as he went to grab a water from the fridge. While he was walking, Oliver let out a frustrated noise.

"What is it?"

"About 40 people moved into this city in the past month. Seventy percent of them were adult men, and of those seventy- about half of them were single." Oliver explained, getting up from his seat.

"Are you looking for a roommate or a boyfriend?" Dig teased, cracking open his water bottle.

"I went out the other night," he began. "I had a lead on some human traffickers, but when I got there, someone was already there. He'd taken the suspects out and the women involved were fine. I stopped him from choking one of the men to death."

"Someone beat you to them?" Dig asked, turning to face Oliver.

"Yes, he was wearing what looked like a black jumpsuit- and he had a mask covering the top half of his face." Oliver explained. "I think he might be on our side, but-"

"But what?" Dig crossed his arms. "Are you telling me you let this man get away without so much as a name?"

"Of _course_ I did, Dig," he groaned. "He saved me the trouble of taking those men down. He deserved a free pass. _Besides_\- why would I take someone down who is doing the same thing as I am?"

"And if he turns out to be on the _other_ side?" Dig challenged. Oliver's jaw clenched, his body stiff. Maybe Dig was right- he should have at least unmasked the man- but he couldn't bring himself to do it. At some level, they were the same. Protecting this city, leading a double life. That man had people he needed to protect, he knew it for a fact.

Well, the moment for unmasking had passed, so he would hunt down this man in a more traditional way.

"Dig, what's a good cover to interview fourteen single men?" Oliver smiled, walking back over to his weapons rack, inspecting the arrows he used in his previous fight. He touched the tips, thinking that he would need to sharpen them soon.

"Who goes door to door anymore?" Dig asked- and really, it was a legitimate question. "And how are you so sure that he's single?"

Oliver paused briefly, before walking over to another table where he had tossed his hoodie earlier. He slipped it on quietly, and then turned back around, zipping it up.

"People like us- we don't do relationships," he said. "No, we _ruin_ them."

It was true- ever since being rescued from the island, Oliver couldn't hold a steady relationship. He'd tried again and again, but it had fallen apart each time. He had a serious problem with commitment, although it wasn't as if anyone could blame him. Five years fighting for his life- five years wondering who was going to have a knife at his throat next. Was it the men out there- hunting for him? Or was it the woman lying next to him? It was hard then, and it was even harder now- because now he had relationships, friendships, that needed to be protected. He had family- family that depended on him. He had people to lose this time that he didn't on the island. He had something to lose now, and those who knew him had him to lose as well.

"Alright," Dig said, trying to steer the conversation back on track. He could tell there was baggage here. "How much time do you need at each door?"

"Only a minute, if not less." Oliver assured. "I just need to see his face- hear his voice."

"We could invite them to your club." Dig offered, although he didn't sound too convinced himself. "Maybe you're introducing a new DJ or something."

"My club?" Oliver repeated under his breath. He pondered that- it was definitely a possibility. The place was also still severely understaffed. Inviting people to his club might make them consider handling a job there- especially single men. "I'll hold a promotion. Each person to come to the club will get one free drink ticket at the door. Sounds good to me."

"And when do you want to pursue this endeavor, Mr. Queen?" Dig asked. Oliver checked his watch, reading that it was already noon. He'd forgotten that it was a Saturday today. Normally, he wouldn't even come down here until it was late in the evening- training continuously until the early hours of the day- moments before the sun peaked above the cityscape.

"It we get a move on, we can do at least a few today."

* * *

"You did _what_, exactly?"

Foggy was understandably angry. It wasn't even a week in their new place, and Matt had already gone out and nearly gotten himself killed by another vigilante. Although, it wasn't as if he knew that there was gonna be some crazy guy with a bow and arrow running around Starling City. He didn't do that kind of research. _Well_\- maybe now he would start.

"I went out the other night, I found someone who was doing bad things, and I beat them up." Matt said, as if it were as simple as that. Foggy ran his hands through his hair, clenching it in his fists as if he were about to pull it right out of his head.

"That is _not_ what I am concerned about," Foggy said. "_And you know it_!"

Karen had gone out to get groceries and things that day- stocking up because they had nothing in this new place- no connections, no name, no identity. At least- not yet. They hoped to start making their business a place to come to soon- but for now they were very low key. They hadn't even put up the sign yet- which was odd. Foggy was very proud of that sign, and there were so many memories behind it.

"Have you done any research on this… _Hood_ character?" Foggy sighed, sounding so exhausted. Ever since he learned about Matt's secret; their relationship hadn't nearly been the same as it was. They were slowly patching up the holes, but it was still going to take some time- they both knew that.

"No, not yet. I was planning on it soon, though. He seems like a dangerous figure, Fog." Matt said as calmly as possible- even though thinking of the man with a steady heartbeat standing directly behind him, so quiet he hadn't heard him coming at all, frightened him in a way he'd never known. He couldn't even imagine being in a _real_ fight with this man.

"Oh really, and why's that?" Foggy asked, and it was a rhetorical question, but Matt answered him anyways.

"His _heartbeat_," he admitted. "I could barely hear it- I had no idea he was there until he had an arrow to my back."

A silence seemed to pass over them. Matt could tell Foggy was giving him a concerned look. He might've been blind, but those eyes penetrated the hardest of hearts. He felt the guilt from Foggy not being able to protect his friend bleed into him as if he himself were feeling it. He tried to tell the man so many times that he could handle himself- that he didn't need any back up. It was hard to convince him, though, considering that the only reason Foggy found out about Matt was because his friend had been literally on his death bed- having been unable to protect himself from their greatest enemy.

"_Just_\- could you lay low for a few weeks? We need to sort all of this lawyer stuff out anyways. Isn't that what you went to school for- not this '_vigilante_' bullshit."

Matt couldn't help but chuckled at the snide comment, feeling his laugh bring a smile to his friend's face as well.

"Yeah, whatever you say, Fog."

* * *

"I was thinking of a promotional activity for the club," Oliver proposed, his casual, passive smile settled on his lips per usual. No one could ever tell what he was actually feeling when he made that face. And it was, if not only for him, probably a good thing no one could see what he was feeling at the moment.

"Shoot." Tommy said back, leaning against a bar stool, not even looking at his friend. He was signing some papers- management stuff. He tapped his pen against his lips, a sign that Oliver knew from experience was his signal to continue talking.

"Well, at the door we give each person a single ticket to redeem at the bar for a free drink." He said, looking from Tommy to the papers he was scribbling onto. "It could be a sort of… invitation for the new residents of Starling City."

"_Alright_, but," Tommy began, taking a soft breath in and turning to face his friend. He bit the end of his pen lightly. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing." Oliver said, a little too quickly.

"_And_, we both know that's a straight up lie." Tommy sighed, and then turned back to his papers. "I'm done trying to separate your lies from your truths. If you don't want to tell me, well I'll just add it to the list."

Oliver grabbed Tommy's arm that was holding the pen, "_Tommy_."

Tommy looked back at his friend, this time a glint in his eye, as if he were challenging Oliver to say something- _anything_ about his issues with being totally honest with him. He was still sour about his friend being a killer- especially for the little detail of him never meaning to have told Tommy in the first place. It's something that would normally put a person on your bad side.

"The other day I went out and I saw someone," Oliver admitted in a hushed tone.

"_Saw_ someone?" Tommy repeated.

"Yes- he was…" Oliver paused for a moment, before deciding to take a chance and just tell him the truth for once. "He was wearing a black jumpsuit along with a black mask. He took out a pair of human traffickers before I got there."

Oliver let go of his friend's arm and Tommy put his pen down. He looked contemplative as he processed the information.

"You mean to tell me, that there is a _second_ vigilante in Starling City?" Tommy asked. "And what are you doing with this promotion? Inviting him to the club to do _what_, exactly?"

Oliver sighed, "It's a ploy, so I can go door to door and possibly figure out who he is. I don't think he had a voice manipulator- and I heard him pretty clearly. I just need a minute to look over these people- and besides, it'll be good for business."

"Okay." Tommy agreed. "But what will you do, _you know_, if you find him?"

Oliver opened his mouth to respond, but he found out a little too late that he had nothing to say. What _was_ he going to do when he found out who this man was? He was considering a few things… one being to turn him in. But no, what good would that do? Maybe he could befriend him, ask him to join his team. But how was he supposed to bring that up- and even so, he shouldn't do that as soon as he met the guy. He still needed to background check them.

"I was thinking maybe just… show him around, befriend him. He could prove to be useful, don't you agree?" Oliver said, after a moment of hesitation. Tommy gave him a skeptical look, before he was putting the pen back up to his lips. He nodded, turning back to his papers once more.

"Have fun out there," he said, and Oliver smiled at that. "_Oh_, and this event will be held a week from today. Remember that in your little invitation speeches, alright?"

"Will do. Thank you, Tommy," Oliver said, patting his friend on the shoulder as he passed him. He nodded at Diggle, who was standing near the door. Dig gave a smile and an eye-roll in return.

* * *

"Something smells good," Matt proclaimed, stepping into their open kitchen. At his comment, he heard a soft giggle, and a short, huff of laughter. He smiled, it seemed like _both_ of his house-mates were cooking this time around. Normally Foggy tried to avoid cooking, but sometimes he did it to relieve stress. Karen, while he wouldn't have originally thought, was a pretty good chef it seemed. Matt was lucky- considering it was extremely difficult to cook when you're blind.

"Yeah, dinner will be ready soon," Karen said back, obviously preoccupied, according to the direction her voice was traveling.

"I hope Fog is wearing the '_kiss the cook apron'_ this time." Matt joked, which was soon followed by an offended-sounding '_hey_!'

Interrupting their small moment was the doorbell. Matt sighed, picking his cane up from a holder near the steps.

"I think that was the door-" he heard Karen begin, but he just cut her off.

"No worries, I've got it!" Matt called back to them. "You guys keep cooking, I'll answer the door."

"We don't want any girl-scout cookies!" Foggy playfully shouted as Matt descended the steps to the front door.

Before he reached the door, he listened carefully to the other side, trying to make out the people he would be greeting. There was one heartbeat- or wait… no, there were two. One was so soft he could barely hear it. Where had he listened to that before? Reaching for the door knob, he hesitated. Was the person behind this door the same person he faced on the docks- the man with the arrows? He swallowed softly, trying his best not to look suspicious as he turned the door knob and answered upon the second chime of the bell.

"Hello," Matt greeted them, making sure his cane was in plain sight. "How could I help you?"

There was an awkward shifting from one of the members of the pair. It was who he assumed was the bigger of the two- taller. He wasn't the one with the slow, quiet heartbeat.

"It's nice to meet you, my name is Oliver Queen." The steady heart greeted. Matt could tell he had his hand out, but it seemed a bit rude. Didn't this… _Oliver_ know he was blind? Matt narrowed his eyes behind his glasses, and pursed his lips, pretending he didn't notice the extension of the other's hand. It was weird for a blind person to know those kinds of things anyways.

"Oliver Queen? Ahh, I think I've heard that name before," he lied smoothly. "Sorry- I'm new here. Name's Matthew Murdock; but you can call me Matt."

Matt refrained himself from smirking as Oliver withdrew his hand.

"_Ah_, very good, Matt," Oliver said casually. There was a sort of tension to the man's voice, though- as if he knew something that Matt didn't. "Well, my friend Diggle and I were coming around to invite new residents to my club- Verdant. It's located in the Glades. We're having a sort of promotion next week- purchasing one admission to the club will get you a ticket that can be redeemed at the bar for one free drink."

"Verdant. I'll remember that," Matt promised, though he wasn't sure he actually would. He and clubs didn't exactly mix well. "And uh, do you have a business card, Mr. Queen? Just in case I have any questions."

"Yes, just a moment," Oliver excused himself, and Matt listened as the man rustled around some, before pulling what sounded like a piece of stiff paper from his wallet. Matt extended his hand, palm facing up. Oliver slowly placed the card in Matt's hand- hesitating briefly to pull away, causing Matt's fingers to brush against the side of his hand when he went to close it around the card. It surprised Matt, and when he felt the man's hand he noticed how rough it was. He could picture the scars littering the surface of his skin, heat burning through as if he had been born of fire.

"Well, I'll see you around then?" Oliver asked with a friendly note to his voice. Matt tapped his cane against the door frame.

"Maybe, but I won't be _seeing_ you." He joked. With a brief chuckle, he heard Oliver's friend turn away.

"Have a good day, Matt."

"You too, Mr. Queen." Matt said, finally closing the door. He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, pressing his back against the hard wood of the door- feeling as if he would fall if he tried to stand on his own accord. He ran his thumb along the rough card in his hand.

Who was Oliver Queen- and why did he get the feeling that this wasn't the first time they'd met?


End file.
